Bonus Friday (Part 1)

Ahhh, Friday.  The day my husband gets to stay home from work and help me grapple with my last bit of sanity watch the kids.  Some Fridays are awesome and we get to do fun things together as a family.  Some Fridays are not so awesome because Matt forgets that he has stuff to do (or decides to tell me about said stuff at 7:30 am over a sink full of dirty dishes, soggy cheerios and my smelly armpits.  Friday is also my guaranteed shower day.  What can I say? I'm a planner.)

And some Fridays are awesome because I find myself in the middle of some sort of ridiculous situation.  A Bonus Friday is when I find myself in the middle of more than one ridiculous situation.

Today was a Bonus Friday.

I left the house extra early this morning in order to arrive early at the DMV and renew my drivers' license.  I walk in the doors, take my ticket (#21!), grab my renewal application and a pen and get cracking.  The lady behind the counter calls number 17.  Hurry, Jackie, Hurry!

"...18..."

Done! Phew, that was close.  Wait, what does that sign say?  Cash or check only?!  Stinker!  Now I have to use the stupid ATM which will cost me about a billion dollars in fees (I'm so cheap, it's not even funny.  Okay, it's a little funny.)  Beep, beep, beep...enter my pin number...

"...19..."

The couple in the corner, huddled over their paperwork as though they are taking the SATs or making out or something, pipes up, "oh, we're not ready...sorry."

Gah!  Hurry, hurry little machine!  Gimmie my moolah!!!!

"...20...20...20..."  Bueller?

"...21..."

"That's me! That's me! Just a second!"

"...21..."

"Over here! I'm waiting for my cash to come out!"

"...22..."

"OH NO SHE DIDN'T!"

I run over to the little white line, ready to make my case to the other DMV employee to allow me to cut in line.

"...23..."

Number 23 starts to walk toward the front of the room when I pipe up with, "I'm number 21 and I was just waiting for my cash to spit out of the ATM when SHE called my number."  Yes, I even pointed like the tattle-tale I am.

"Okay, come on up."  I glance back at Number 23 and give him a sorry-it-can't-be-helped smile that borders on the psychotic.  Number 23 wisely shrugs his shoulders and begins to wander around the room.

Organ Donor? Yes. Ka-ching, Sign, Smile, Click, Done.

I even registered to vote.  But I checked the Republican box because I don't want anyone to know that I have serious Democratic leanings. And in case my Crackhead Facebook friends are right, and Obama really is the Anti-Christ I just want to make sure all of my bases are covered.